


Abrázame al amanecer

by jellyfishpikachu



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Drinking, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Pet Names, Sharing Clothes, Smoking, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 19:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13441560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyfishpikachu/pseuds/jellyfishpikachu
Summary: A cold, quiet night to smoke and drink away his sins is interrupted by a certain ridiculous cowboy.





	Abrázame al amanecer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lynia_de_Faye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynia_de_Faye/gifts).



Hanzo leaned against the rooftop railing. Smoke drifted from his cigarette, thin wisps of grey against the purples and reds of the cloudy sunset. His cigarette was on the end of a long, elegant cigarette holder— the only way he’d accept such a foul substance entering his body. He took a drag of it, and sighed when the nicotine calmed the anxiety that had built up over the day. He let out a breath, shivering a bit. He could feel goosebumps on his exposed shoulder, and regretted his usual attire yet again. His father always said dragons were weak to cold.

Hanzo closed his eyes and unhooked the bottle of sake from his belt, drinking from it. The alcohol comforted him, and he sighed, enjoying the reprieve from the childhood memories the cold mountain air brought with it. The jingle of spurs behind him interrupted the silence. “Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, darlin’.”

“I’m not your darling McCree,” Hanzo said, the retort almost automatic… he blamed his ears turning pink on the cold. “And you just saw me a few hours ago.”

“Still miss that pretty glare of yours whenever you ain’t around,” McCree said, his grin somehow charming despite the ever-present cigar.

Hanzo cursed the flutter in his chest at the sight of that smile. McCree was unkempt and a little too bold at times, but… he was certainly handsome. That, his charm, quick wit, and easygoing nature made McCree well-liked in Overwatch. He had no reason to isolate himself from the others, didn’t have to sit through their suspicious gazes. Hanzo downed some more alcohol, sighing.

Thankfully McCree remained silent, leaning against the railing next to him. The sky above them grew darker as dusk became night, and Hanzo was relieved to feel the light-headed buzz that came with drinking sake. It made interacting with people— especially Jesse McCree— so much easier.

But of course, the silence could never last forever with him. “What’re ya doin’ out here anyway, darlin’?”

Hanzo gave McCree a flat glare. “Smoking and drinking. You seem to be my unwelcome partner in the former.”

McCree, to his credit, seemed unfazed. “Seems kinda chilly for entertainin’ yourself that way… real lonely too.”

Hanzo hid a shiver at the reminder of the cold. Strange, how one could forget something until someone brought it up again. Still, shivering out here was better than suffocating in his room, or being around the others’ suspicious gazes. He put out his cigarette and slipped the holder into his pocket. “I’m fine, McCree. Go back inside if you cannot handle the cold, but don’t project your own issues on me.”

“Nah, I ain’t too cold,” McCree said with a snort, playing with the hem of his… poncho thing. “I’m wearin’ thicker clothes than ya, and I got this ol’ rag here too. But _your_ whole tiddy’s out though, sugarpuff.”

Hanzo glared at him. “Don’t be crude, McCree.”

McCree laughed, resting his elbows on the railing. “Sorry sweetheart, just worried about ‘em,” he said with an easy smile.

“My body is none of your concern.”

“That prolly ain’t as true as ya want it to be.”

Hanzo’s shoulders tensed, the string of a bow being pulled back. “What is that supposed to mean, cowboy?”

“You’re part of a team now, Han— ya got people to watch out for and asses to save, includin’ mine,” McCree said with a shrug, putting out his cigar.

If he had any less dignity, Hanzo would snort. “You act as if your ass is good enough to save.”

McCree gasped and stumbled, clutching his chest. “Your sharp tongue has wounded me darlin’! I dunno if my heart can take this!”

“You’ll live.”

“Liar,” McCree said with a dramatic sniffle, “I’m never gonna recover. Heart won’t ever be the same.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “Oh, do you need someone to kiss it better?” he said, sharp and acerbic.

McCree grinned. “You offerin’, pumpkin?”

“No.”

He deflated, almost pouting. “Just drive the knife deeper then, why don’t you…“

“Well you don’t seem to be dead yet, so I must,” Hanzo replied, smirking at him.

McCree swallowed and cleared his throat at that, tugging the brim of his hat lower. Hanzo watched him— was he just imagining the tint of red to McCree’s cheeks? With a huff, Hanzo turned his gaze back to where the sea met the sky. The sun had long since set, leaving only the faintest glow where it used to be. It was too cloudy to see many stars, but Hanzo doubted they’d be as beautiful as those above Hanamura. At least the automatic lights lining the edges of the roof and along the railing allowed them to see. He sighed and shivered again when the wind briefly picked up, though he hid his discomfort well. Night brought a greater chill with it, the ocean breeze almost frigid now.

The silence between them stretched on. The longer it lingered, the more often Hanzo could feel McCree’s eyes on him, which never failed to make his face heat up. Still, Hanzo was determined not to break the blissful quiet— he refused to even meet McCree’s gaze, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Not that he was focused on the view anymore.

Hanzo heard the rustle of fabric from beside him. That was all the warning he got before McCree stepped closer and draped his poncho-thing over his shoulders. Hanzo stared at him, bristling. “McCree, why—”

“Ya seemed kinda chilly, that’s all,” McCree said with a shrug, giving him a smile that only made Hanzo’s face heat up more.

Hanzo was about to refuse it, then hesitated, looking down at the red and faded gold fabric. He could feel McCree’s body heat clinging to it, and… was his gunpowder and cigar smoke scent stronger now than before, or was that Hanzo’s imagination? He took a deep breath to calm the nervous beat of his heart. “Your… poncho will do, McCree.”

McCree chuckled. “It’s a serape.”

“It’s an affront to fashion,” Hanzo retorted, though he tugged it further around himself.

McCree was quiet for a moment. His eyes looked Hanzo over, partially hidden by the brim of his hat. “Now that’s prolly true for me, but you make it look mighty fine, sweetpea.”

Hanzo felt himself turn red, mouth going dry as all his usual confidence left him entirely. He turned his gaze back to the horizon, too flustered to come up with a reply.

McCree laughed. “Never thought I’d manage to get the great Hanzo Shimada all embarrassed with a few words,” he said with a teasing grin.

“It isn’t simply your words, if you _must_ know,” Hanzo replied, giving him a sour look.

McCree raised an eyebrow at that. “It ain’t?”

Hanzo looked away and nodded, crossing his arms.

“Well… what else is there?” McCree asked. Hanzo dared to glance at him, if only to confirm that yes, McCree’s confused expression was as adorable as always. Damn it.

Hanzo sighed. “It’s also… your voice.”

McCree blinked, then grinned. “Well, if I’d’ve known you had a thing for _that_ , then—”

“I do not,” Hanzo said, blushing and glaring at him, “And again, don’t be crude McCree.”

McCree laughed. “Well, what did ya expect to happen after givin’ me so little to go by?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “I expected maturity.”

“Well that sure as hell ain’t happenin’,” McCree said with a snort, then shook his head. “Now, much as I like this back n’ forth with ya, I’m still confused on what about my voice caused ya to get all cute n’ embarrassed earlier.”

Hanzo blushed yet again and looked away. It was easier to speak while looking at the horizon; the night sky didn’t make words die in his throat the way they did when he looked at McCree. “Your voice was perhaps the… wrong word for what I meant,” he said after a moment.

“Then what did ya mean?” McCree asked, his voice soft. Almost gentle.

Hanzo shivered, though this time it had nothing to do with the cold. “I meant… the way you said it. It is easy to tell when you’re being honest in complimenting someone, as opposed to when you’re simply saying something for the sake of talking. That difference is mostly in your voice— your voice takes a different timber, and you’re more enthusiastic.”

Hanzo could imagine McCree grumbling without even having to look at him, and that fact made a smile pull at his lips. “Well damn… didn’t know I was that easy to read.”

“Only to those who know you well,” Hanzo said, chuckling.

There was a pause, and when McCree spoke again there was something unidentifiable in his voice. “And… you’d say we know each other well?”

Hanzo finally looked at McCree, meeting his eyes. “Would you disagree with that?”

“Not at all… kinda honored really,” McCree said, looking away and fiddling with the brim of his hat.

“Honored?” Hanzo echoed, frowning.

McCree nodded, bashful. “Yeah, darlin’. I mean… you seem real picky ‘bout who knows ya well. Bet there ain’t many who manage to make it on that list in the first place, n’ the fact that I do, well…”

Hanzo looked at the serape wrapped around his shoulders. “I must admit I hadn’t thought of it like that. To me, you simply managed to… sneak into my inner circle, so to speak.”

McCree all but glowed with pride. “Just part of my good ol’ Southern charm.”

“Now that I doubt. I suspect you only managed to sneak in because you took off those ridiculous spurs.”

“Now I know for a _fact_ that you like my ridiculous cowboy ways.”

Hanzo gave him an unimpressed look. “For a fact, you say.”

McCree grinned. Just like the man himself, it was charming, a little crooked, and never failed to make Hanzo melt a little. “Sugar, I’m sure as the day is long.”

“It’s autumn McCree, the days are getting shorter.”

“Figure of speech.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “This does nothing to show how you’re so certain that I’m charmed by your mannerisms.”

McCree leaned closer to him with a smirk. “Well darlin’,” he drawled, “you didn’t try to kill me when I put that serape ‘round your shoulders. Turned a right pretty shade of red after I did, too.”

Hanzo’s blush returned at full force with that, but he merely tilted his head slightly. “That wasn’t a mannerism specific to cowboys, however. And is prettiness not subjective?”

“Well yeah, but I was just tryin’ to— it was just… oh nevermind,” McCree said, grumbling.

Hanzo only smirked.

McCree frowned and stared at him in confusion for a long moment, before his jaw dropped. “You _knew_ what I was doin’ just now!” he accused. “Now that ain’t too nice of ya, pumpkin.”

Hanzo chuckled. “I never said I was nice.”

McCree pouted some more. Then he moved even closer until they were inches apart. “Still,” McCree said with a grin, “I sure am glad to hear you’ve known my intentions this whole time.”

Hanzo swallowed, eyes going a little wide. “ Not… the whole time. I had been worried I was imagining it for the most part.”

McCree huffed out a laugh. “Aw don’t worry ‘bout it none, darlin’. I’m worried I dreamed you up half the time.”

Hanzo looked down. “You don’t have very pleasant dreams then.”

Hanzo froze when he felt McCree’s fingertips on his chin, guiding his head back up so he was looking at him. “Now don’t start with that Hanzo,” he scolded, voice as gentle as his touch.

“I— apologies…” Hanzo said, flustered.

McCree chuckled. “No need for that either.”

The corners of Hanzo’s lips turned up. “Then...what shall I do?”

“Now that depends on what ya want.”

Hanzo stared at him for a moment, hesitating. Was it right for him to want something like this, after everything he’s done? “I… would like to kiss you,” he said, “but I don’t know if I deserve that.”

“Genji forgave ya,” McCree reminded him quietly. “And in this case, it don’t much matter whether or not you think ya deserve it.”

Hanzo frowned. “Then what does matter, in this case?” he asked.

“Whether or not I want to kiss ya too,” McCree said with a smile, “and I gotta say— I’ve wanted to for the longest time now.”

Hanzo stared at him, blushing. “You… have?”

McCree laughed. “Sure as the sun rises in the east, darlin’. Damn, and here I thought I was bein’ a little too obvious…”

“I’m afraid you were not,” Hanzo said with an embarrassed chuckle.

McCree huffed out a laugh. “Shit you’re too cute,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

Hanzo felt his face heat up even more. Instead of responding, he gripped the collar of McCree’s shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. McCree froze and tensed, and Hanzo felt his heart sink. He pulled away and opened his mouth to apologize, but McCree only kissed him again. The world seemed to spin faster, but the two of them continued to kiss in that slow, gentle way; the difference made Hanzo’s head spin.

“Jesse…” Hanzo whispered against his lips.

McCree pulled back with a dazed smile. “Wanna go do this somewhere warmer, darlin’?”

“I would like that,” Hanzo said, smiling back at him. He pulled McCree’s serape closer around his shoulders and laced their fingers together, leading him inside.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Overwatch fanfic (and first fanfic I've written in WAY too long). I really hope I've done their characters justice! Let me know what you think please c: I'll have to write more for this fandom soon, this was fun~


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